"I guess they don't want me in New York after all," he mused. "If I can't get something to do I can't stay here, for Mrs. Talcott can't afford to keep me. I'll have to starve!"
He was so disheartened that he did not feel like eating. Immediately after the meal he went to his little room. Then, of a sudden he thought of the letter Paul Hampton had given him.
"I may as well open that," he reasoned. "Goodness knows I am short enough of funds, and pretty well discouraged too."
The letter was in his pocket, still pinned fast, and he brought it forth and gazed at it speculatively.
"It would be just like him to put a five-dollar bill in it," he thought.
With his penknife he slit the envelope open, and looked inside. It contained a slip of paper and another slip, of a green color.
"A bill, as sure as I'm in this room!" he ejaculated. "I don't suppose it's less than a five, and maybe it's a ten. If he—well I declare!"
Nat rushed to the window to look at the bill, and then with a gasp he sank back on the only chair which the little bedroom contained. He could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses.
The bank bill was one for a hundred dollars.